


The Best 'Venger

by lola381pce



Series: Imagine Clint Coulson Prompts [24]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Awesome Phil Coulson, Christmas Fluff, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, First Kiss, Kid Fic, Kids In Hospital Dressed As Their Favourite Avengers, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Protective Clint Barton, The Best Avenger, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-10 20:11:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17432741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lola381pce/pseuds/lola381pce
Summary: Anonymous prompt for Imagine ClintCoulson: "As a PR thing, the Avengers visit a children's hospital/orphanage/other, where the kids are dressed as their favorite avengers. Clint overhears Coulson telling a kid/group why Hawkeye is actually the best avenger. Bonus if later Clint tells Coulson why he thinks Coulson is actually the best avenger."Thanks, Anon :)





	The Best 'Venger

**Author's Note:**

> We are always accepting new prompts at our tumblr account, so feel free to drop by with a little headcanon or ask.
> 
> I added the Christmas theme as the story was supposed to be finished and posted by 25th December... Yeah, oops! I guess it's turned into my first published fic of 2019 instead. Hope you enjoy it anyway.

In truth, Clint’s never cared for Christmas much. Not really. It wasn’t a big deal in his life as a kid. His mom tried her best a few times but anything she attempted was pretty much ruined by his asshole of a father with him drinking away the money she managed to save, or smashing whatever she bought for him and Barn. Orphanages were usually too poor to do anything except put up a sad Christmas tree with even sadder decorations. Foster homes were a hit or miss kinda thing so his expectations were always pretty low (and generally met). And the circus? Well, the holidays were when they were at their busiest so he didn't have time to think about the festive season being “special”. Except perhaps for the exhaustion the additional performances brought.

But this, dropping by children’s hospitals or orphanages and talking with kids who are super excited to see their heroes in the flesh (or metal) no matter how ill they are, this is pretty cool and reminds him how lucky he is.

This is the best part of being an Avenger.

They have these kinds of events all year round. Sometimes loud and proud when PR decides they need positive publicity thanks to an episode of city-wide destruction typically caused by Doombots, mad scientists or megalomaniacs bent on world domination. And sometimes when no-one will know except the team and the kids.

However, visiting at Christmas seems to add a little magic (although preferably not the literal kind). He's not sure if it's all the effort the parents and hospital staff go to with the tinsel and baubles and twinkling lights on the Christmas trees or if it's the way the kids’ faces light up as soon their favourite Avenger walks into the room. Actually, yeah. Maybe it's the second one.

Thor and Iron Man are with the stronger kids shouting up a storm making the adults laugh or cringe with embarrassment; Black Widow and Banner are with those who are more subdued or shy, talking quietly and helping them with colouring books or drawing pictures; and Captain America is doing the rounds with Pepper shaking hands with potential donors and hospital Administrators, while being nice to the press. Clint knows it’s Cap’s least favourite part of being an Avenger. He’d much rather be with the others spending time with the kids. But needs must, right? And the good Captain has the diplomatic skills the others… well, don’t.

Then there’s Coulson who tends to stand quietly on the sidelines, hands clasped in front of him watching all that’s going on with his sharp blue eyes and barely-there smile. Barely there but just enough to deepen the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, a look Clint loves and would be happy to see on his handler more often.

He accompanies them on these events as The Avengers’ official S.H.I.E.L.D liaison to give the team backup just as he would if they were out in the field (and occasionally allow an air of quiet menace to bleed through his usual inscrutable façade at any press or Administrators who get out of line). Clint enjoys that side of him too. The badass side.

But right now Clint can’t see Coulson at all which is strange because he definitely arrived with them. Clint distinctly remembers calling shotgun and riding up front with him in the SUV with Tasha and Steve in the back as the other three and Pepper travelled in a limo with Happy at the wheel.

It’s not that he intends to go looking for him but with some free time on his hands during a quiet period, Clint finds his handler in a colourful day-room just off the main ward with an awesome Christmas tree all sparkly and shiny.

Coulson’s sitting chilled and relaxed in an overstuffed chair which Clint reckons is probably used for storytime or something with its soft pillows and plush throw. Clint also notes with a warm, fuzzy feeling he has a little kid of perhaps four or five dressed as… well, hot damn… dressed as Hawkeye cuddled into him. Coulson’s holding him gently but competently as though he's done it before. Hell for all Clint knows maybe he has. It’s a good look.

With their parents looking on, hands covering their mouths to muffle quiet snickers of laughter, Coulson’s holding court over maybe a dozen or so excitable kids in Iron Man, Captain America, and Thor costumes. They may be in a sick kids hospital but the thrill of Christmas and the Avengers nearby seems to be keeping whatever ails them at bay for now.

Clint has no idea how he's doing it but Coulson appears perfectly at ease in a room full of pretty vocal under-tens. They're sitting in front of him in a semi-circle while he quizzes them on their choice of costume and why they think the superhero they’re dressed as is The Best Avenger. With an amused snort, it reminds Clint of post-mission debriefs back at the tower or S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ. Except the grown-up Avengers usually sit on chairs rather than the floor… well, most of them.

Smiling, Clint leans against the door jam to watch.

One of the moms spots him, has a mini freak out for a second realising who he is, then manages to recover her composure long enough to gesture for him to come in and join them. Clint’s smile widens and he shakes his head. Holding his forefinger in front of his lips, he nods towards Coulson to say he doesn’t want to disturb what’s going on. She nods back in understanding and turns around to watch the excitement again, her eyes as bright as the children's.

Now and again she looks over her shoulder still not quite believing Hawkeye, her son’s favourite Avenger is standing nearby. With his arms. His really sexy arms which look even more wow in the flesh. Cheeks blazing scarlet she tears her gaze away fixing it on Coulson and the children.

“I am Iron Man an’ I am the best ‘Venger cuz I am awesome an’ I can fly an’ I got lasers an’ I drive fast cars,” one boy shouts at Coulson jumping up to stand in a typical Stark pose holding out his prosthetic arm, designed to look like Iron Man’s glove, to blast Coulson in the forehead with his repulsor.

“Huh,” the senior Agent replies with a slightly pained expression as 'You certainly sound like him' runs through his mind. "Well, Iron Man _is_ pretty awesome and… he does have or do all those things. I’d have to say you’re definitely in the running.”

The kid grins and returns to his place in the semi-circle, fist-bumping another red and gold clad child as he goes by.

Coulson turns his head to a Thor lookalike. “State your case, Mighty Thor,” he says.

The second boy climbs to his feet, careful not to displace the I.V. line in his wrist, and points his hammer at Coulson as he thunders, “I AM MIGHTY THOR, PRINCE OF ASGARD. I HAVE MENU MY HAMMER THAT NO-ONE ELSE CAN LIFT BECAUSE THEY ARE NOT AS BIG AN’ COOL AS ME.”

Clint grins at the muscles bunching together in Coulson’s jaw as he valiantly holds back the laughter that Clint knows is desperately trying to escape. After a moment’s pause, Coulson responds to Thor’s declaration and Clint silently gives his handler kudos for keeping his poker face firmly in place.

“It’s true only the Prince of Asgard can wield... Menu... and no-one on else is quite as cool as he is. Or perhaps as big. Well played, your Highness. And... such powerful a voice too! You are certainly worthy of consideration.”

Thor nods majestically at Coulson as though there can be no other outcome and drops down beside a Captain America. She pats his back, obviously pleased for her friend. Coulson pins the little girl with his gaze and says gently, “I don’t believe I’ve heard from the good Captain as yet.”

She blushes furiously but instead of standing up with confidence like the other two, she slides over on her knees to have a pow-wow with the other Captains. Coulson bites his lip and turns his head to the side to hide the grin he can no longer keep at bay. She’s so cute and so serious. Actually, all three Captains are. He almost wishes he could pronounce Cap the winner there and then but he’s bestowed that honour to someone else. In his head at least. He knows unequivocally who the Best Avenger is. He’s always known and there's very little that could sway his opinion. Not terribly objective perhaps but hey, who’s gonna find out?

With a final nod to her compatriots, the little girl stands in front of Coulson. One of her hands is curled up into a fist which is pressed into her hip, the other is holding her shield in front of her. The expression on her face is so earnest it reminds him of the real Captain America.

“I am Captain ‘Merica. I am a super soldier an’ I believe in toof, justice an’ the ‘merican way.” She goes to sit back down then with a gasp as she suddenly remembers something, turns back to Coulson and says quickly, “An’ I don’ like bullies. I punch ‘em inna face an’ frow ‘em inna jail.”

Satisfied, she’s covered everything she rejoins her friends to smiles and hugs.

Again, there’s quiet snickering from the parents and nursing staff, and even Clint has a grin from ear to ear. Coulson, however, remains straight-faced. Clint knows he’s always been good at keeping his composure no matter the circumstances, it's just one of the reasons Clint finds him so damned attractive, but he’s excelling himself today.

“You are an _awesome_ super soldier and... truth, justice, and the American way are to be much admired. You’re another contender for the Best Avenger. And Captain? I don’t like bullies either.”

One of the other star-spangled soldiers asks in an awed voice, “Do you punch ‘em inna face an’ frow ‘em in the jail too?”

Coulson's eyebrow rises slightly at the question and a faint blush spreads across his cheeks much to Clint’s and the other adults’ amusement. Clint’s very interested in how his handler responds to this one, ‘cause he knows for sure Coulson wouldn’t hesitate to punch them “inna face” and throw them “inna jail”.

“Well, I prefer to cuff them and put them... in the jail. Sometimes punching them in the… well, punching them isn’t always the best way to go.”

“But sometimes it is?” asks a Thor hopefully.

Coulson flashes the parents nearest him an apologetic look. This is taking a turn he hadn’t accounted for and he usually accounts for everything. Except for the unpredictability of kids apparently.

“Uh… well, sometimes the bad guys don’t leave you much option.”

One of the Iron Man mini-mes puts up his hand before Coulson can explain. Coulson swallows dreading what his question is going to be. Showing no fear, outwardly at least, he gives permission for Iron Man to ask away. The parents and nursing staff can only request that he, Coulson, never darkens their door again if it turns out to be a complete disaster.

“Do you have handcuffs, Mr Agent?”

Grateful it’s nothing worse, Coulson nods very much aware his ass has just been saved by a slightly less blood-thirsty seven-year-old. All the kids give a collective “oooh” of respect. In the background, Clint snorts and quickly covers his mouth to stop himself from cracking up completely. They sound like the little alien guys from Toy Story. Not for the first time in his life, he wonders why all kids of a certain age sound like they've inhaled a lung full of helium. Plus seeing the unflappable Coulson become momentarily flustered is unexpectedly funny.

“Can I see ‘em?”

Coulson nods again and shifts slightly in the chair to snap open the holder at the base of his back careful not to dislodge little Hawkeye who’s still cuddled against him. He removes a set of cuffs, dangling them from his forefinger where Iron Man can reach them. He takes them from Coulson’s hand to admire them as the other kids crowd around him to see.

Clint smirks. Coulson rarely uses handcuffs nowadays, preferring SHIELD reinforced cable ties instead. He must have brought them along specially. Clint gets that weird mushy feeling in his stomach again.

Thor raises his hand. With another nervous swallow, Coulson nods for him to ask his next question.

“Do you have a gun, Mr Agent?”

Oh crap!

“I do,” Coulson says gravely. “But…”

“Can I see it?” interrupts Iron Man, excitedly.

Coulson’s worked with Wade Wilson. He’s worked with Darcy Lewis. He currently works with Tony Stark. He knows if he doesn’t keep control here, there’s a distinct possibility this is not going to end well.

“...not with me,” he continues as though the interruption hadn't occurred. “Agent rules. No guns in hospitals.”

There’s a collective “Awww” of disappointment from the group. Whew! Disaster averted.

Bloodthirsty Thor’s hand shoots up excitedly and he ploughs on without waiting. “Do you shoot em inna…”

Oh god! It’s back to being a disaster, careening towards a clusterfuck, full-speed ahead.

Coulson’s too professional to facepalm in front of everyone but if it’s possible, he may just have given himself a concussion with a mental brain slap.

Fortunately, one of the medical staff cuts in before little Thor can finish the sentence. “I don’t think that's a question we need ask, Thor. Agent Coulson? Perhaps we could…”

He nods ignoring the tiny beads of sweat that have formed along his hairline. He can honestly say he’s delighted all the Avengers are currently busy with their own thing and none of them can see him right now. He has a reputation to uphold after all. One that's currently being shredded by a tiny Thor with a propensity for bloodthirstiness that would put a Bilgesnipe to shame.

Of course, he’s completely unaware the real Hawkeye is watching him from the doorway with a fond smile.

Although Black Widow and Dr Banner (funnily enough, not the Other Guy) are represented and have shown some interest in the handcuff/gun exchange, neither are too bothered about taking part in the rest of the proceedings. When Coulson asks, the pair looks at each other in silent communication for a moment before ‘Banner’ pushes her wire-rimmed glasses back up her nose, where they slide immediately back down as she returns to her colouring book.

‘Widow’ politely replies on both their behalf, “No fanks, Mr Agent. I’m onna secret mishin an’ Bruce is too shy.”

Coulson nods in understanding. A secret mishin is a secret mishin and the real Bruce Banner would likely be too shy to take part anyway. Coulson wonders, not for the first time, that the personalities of the children seem very similar to the heroes they’ve chosen to be. Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised at that but he finds it touching all the same.

Without raising his voice, he calls everyone to order and smiles at all the kids gathered round at his feet once more. Clint reflects a second time how similar it is to an Avengers debrief. Except, you know, the whole chair thing. Wow! Are the Earth’s Mightiest Heroes _really_ a bunch of under tens?

Pleased the situation seems to be back under control, Coulson prepares to announce who the Best Avenger is.

“I'm very impressed by all of you. Everyone has given great reasons why their Avenger is the Best Avenger whether it’s their super strength, their super suits, or... being a god from another realm. But… I think perhaps you missed who the Best Avenger really is.”

Another Iron Man (or rather, Iron Woman) jabs Coulson’s knee with her finger to attract his attention. He turns his head to look at the mini-Stark standing with hands on hips glaring defiantly at him.

“If it’s not me, then who _IS_ the Best ‘Venger?” she demands impatiently, her mask picking that moment to drop into place hiding her scowl. Irritated, she shoves it back up again and continues to pout.

Coulson raises an eyebrow. Wow! This pint-sized Stark’s eerily similar to the grown-up one.

“That’s easy,” he says, calmly. “It’s Hawkeye.”

There's a ruckus. There’s no other word for it.

All the other Avengers protest loudly at Coulson’s answer. All except the little one on his knee who gazes up at him as though he’s just hung the moon and stars. He smiles down at the kid and winks conspiratorially at him. Clint’s heart melts into a pool of goo.

Once the commotion dies down with the help of several miffed parents and medical staff who give Coulson the evil eye much to Clint’s amusement, the senior agent calmly explains his reasoning.

“You’re all correct. All the other Avengers have abilities to be admired; amazing super strength and speed, the ability to fly around the sky or leap from building to building, or they’re cool enough to control thunder and lightning. But Hawkeye, in some ways, is just like you or me.”

“But if he’s like us, why does that make _him_ the best?” a little Thor asks, confused.

“Well, think how special he must be if he’s on the same team as all those Avengers with superpowers. How hard he must train every day. How brave he must be to fight alongside them. How strong he must be to use his bow for a very long time in battle. He can also do things the others can’t - he never misses, he can see far into the distance, he can stay quiet and sit still for hours. And... there’s something else maybe you don’t know...”

There’s a tug at his tie and Coulson drops his gaze to the purple-clad Hawkeye on his knee. With Coulson’s attention on him, the little boy finger spells H.A.W.K.E.Y.E then touches his finger to his cheek near his ear before moving his finger in a small arch touching it near his mouth then back across his cheek again to say “Deaf” in American sign language.

Making sure miniature Hawkeye is still supported in his embrace, Coulson’s half-smile widens into a grin as he signs back, “Yes. H.A.W.K.E.Y.E deaf.”

He looks back at the other kids and repeats the ASL for them speaking as he finger spells and signs his words while he continues.

“Hawkeye is deaf. Some people might think that’s not good for him or his teammates. They might even think it should stop him from being an Avenger. But... they’d be wrong. Hawkeye is the brightest and most fearless person I know. Hawkeye is the Best Avenger.”

There’s silence as the children consider Coulson’s words. They look round at each other gauging opinion and when one pipes up “I love Hawkeye” three or four more pick it up and repeat it.

Clint’s face turns scarlet and his mouth falls open in shock. That was totally unexpected. Both Coulson’s words and the kids' reaction. These days he’s not used to being the centre of attention. Sure when he was Hawkeye The World’s Greatest Marksman in his skin-tight, purple spangly suit with Carson’s Carnival. Now, however, he’s used to being hidden. Eyes up high where no-one can see him yet he sees all.

And Coulson seemed so damned sincere. Like he was… like he was _proud_ of him.

Little Hawkeye’s mom catches his attention, a spark of worry spreading across her features. He leans nearer as she whispers, “You okay?”

Her concern touches him and he nods with a shy grin.

“Surprised is all,” he shrugs. “Guess I didn’t bargain on that.”

He looks over at Coulson for few moments then returns his gaze to Little Hawkeye’s mom. From her expression, he realises he's been unsuccessful at hiding his feelings for his handler which apparently are as obvious as though they’d been written all over his face in big bold capital letters… in marker pen. Awkward.

Mortified, he hurriedly drops his eyes to his boots as one hand reaches for the back of his neck while the other grabs the bicep. His uniform doesn’t come with pockets so he can’t shove his hand into one as he would do with his jeans.

They stand like that until eventually she lightly touches her hand to his upper arm and slowly, reluctantly he tilts his head to read her face again.

She studies him carefully, taking in his obvious embarrassment at allowing his emotions to show then, with eyes that are kind and understanding, says quietly “It’s Christmas, Hawkeye. Good things happen at Christmas. I'm sure I'm not telling you anything you don't already know but Phil's a good man. He's sweet. He's patient. He's obviously fond of you. Why don't you take a chance? Maybe it's not as one...”

Before she can finish, there’s a loud knock on the open door followed by an even louder voice.

“Did I hear there’s a new Iron Man looking to take over my spot on the Avengers? So not happening. Oh hey! Look. There’s four of you. Wow! How awesome is that? That is _so_ awesome!”

Stark struts into the room as the children gasp and chatter excitedly at the arrival of The Avengers not realising one had been in their midst all along. On the way past, he claps his hand to Clint’s shoulder pulling him into a hug by way of a greeting, dragging him farther into the room with him. The chattering gets louder, not just for Iron Man but also for Hawkeye as the children recognise him.

“Look! Agent’s here too!” he shouts over his shoulder to the others as they follow him and Clint. “Has the Scary G-Man in a Suit been telling you all to eat your greens and get your reports in on time?” he asks the group assembled in front of Coulson.

“NO!” they shout back at him.

Stark puts on an exaggerated surprised expression. “No? Then has he been telling you to stop working on your cars and not drink so much... uh, coffee?”

The kids laugh and shout no again.

“No?” Arms in the air, high and wide in a triumphant pose, Stark does a slow spin in the middle of all the Mini-Avengers. “Then he must have been telling you how amazing I am and that I... am _totally_... the Best Avenger.”

“NO!” they yell at him.

Thor takes over raising Mjolnir above his head. “Of course not, my Iron friend,” he rumbles with a grin from ear to ear. “Clearly that honour goes to me. Is that not correct my little Shield Brothers and Maidens?”

“NOOO! _HAWKEYE’S_ THE BEST ‘VENGER!” they chorus.

Stark places his metal hand over his chest and pretends to stumble. Two of the kids rush over to hold him upright. “Thanks, guys,” he says to them straightening up. “I’m hurt, Agent. Deeply. I thought I was your favourite. Not Katniss.”

“You will always be my favourite, Iron Man... to tell to eat his greens and get his reports in on time,” Coulson replies drily, his face perfectly bland as he gets to his feet with Little Hawkeye still in his arms.

Stark barks out a short, genuine laugh. The child held so carefully by Coulson doesn’t escape his attention, however, he makes no comment. Instead, he looks down at the children gathered around him clad as mini-Iron Man, filing the memory away for later.

“Hey, who’s this? Yeah, you. With the cool arm. Show me how it works, buddy,” he says and drops to one knee, gently taking the prosthetic arm of one of the kids in his gloved hands to admire it, getting the little boy to turn it over and back then open and close his fist.

As the rest of the kids gravitate towards their favourite Avengers, Coulson pulls back to allow Stark and the rest of the team some time with their admirers. He ducks his head and tips it to the side, a half-smile curling up the corner of his mouth in welcome. Clint thinks he’s never looked more gorgeous - his expression soft and open, and in his arms a kid so trusting and safe.

Meanwhile, the eyes of little Hawkeye go big and round when he sees who’s standing in front of him.

“Hello H.A.W.K.E.Y.E. Nice to meet you,” Clint signs to the miniature version of himself. The little boy’s face lights up but he’s far too shy to reply. He buries his face into Coulson’s neck and giggles. Clint grins, totally charmed by how sweet the kid is. And maybe just a little bit by his handler swaying gently from side to side, a comforting hand resting lightly on the little boy’s back.

“Sooo… you think Hawkeye’s the Best Avenger, huh?” he teases Coulson, shifting his gaze and looking directly at him, eyes twinkling as he crosses his arms over his chest.

A faint blush rises from Coulson’s collar spreading across his cheekbones. “Ah. Didn’t realise you were here for that.”

“Would it have made a difference?”

Coulson doesn’t hesitate. “Not to me. Or my buddy here. Huh, Hawkeye?”

He rubs the little boy’s back and when he looks up at Coulson, Coulson nods toward Clint. Mini Hawkeye turns his head to look over his shoulder at him and grins. Just as quickly he presses his nose back into the crook of Coulson’s neck.

“Faker,” he murmurs fondly into the little boy’s hair.

Clint has seen many versions of Phillip J Coulson from competent badass to reassuring senior agent to deadpan Avenger wrangler. But he’s never seen this. The gentle, caring father he could have been. Hell, maybe still could be.

His eyes widen at the thought. Shit! Where the hell did that come from?

Clint glances over at Hawkeye’s mom. She smiles at him and gives him an encouraging two thumbs up. It’s then he realises he has no idea how she and Coulson know each other. They’re not together (fuck! He hopes they’re not together cuz she’s obviously trying to set them up and that would just be weird) but they must be pretty close. The way she spoke about him and the way her son is so relaxed in Coulson’s arms is borne of familiarity rather than necessity. It’s touching to see this side of his handler whether he meant it to happen or not and, god help him, if Clint hadn’t been gone on him before, he definitely is now.

“Looks like I’m about to be replaced on the team,” Clint jokes, wondering how to summon up the courage to take that chance and ask Coulson what he’s doing for the rest of the night. Or the rest of his life if he’s really lucky. But he might be getting a smidgen ahead of himself.

Coulson smirks.

“Nah, you’re safe. I’d swap out Stark first,” Coulson wisecracks back, glancing over at Iron Man clearly basking in all the attention. At the same time, he can see from the joy on Stark’s face as he interacts with the kids, he loves providing it even more. The man is an enigma. 

Coulson looks back at Clint and adds with a mischievous look in his eye, “Besides, this little guy’s got a few years yet before he can draw a bow to the point we can use him on the team.”

“Funn-ee,” Clint retorts. He’s rewarded with a full Coulson smile, eye creases and all. And if it makes his stomach flutter... well, Coulson doesn’t need to know.

Completely oblivious Clint’s belly is currently doing the fandango never mind he’s the cause of it, Coulson tells him, “Nate here’s my next door neighbour,” thereby unwittingly supplying the answer to Clint’s so far unasked question. “Been a big fan of yours for a long time. So much so he’s been learning ASL.”

“He’s not deaf?” Clint asks, his eyebrows rising in surprise. It’s kinda unusual for someone from the hearing world to learn to sign. Unless it’s for a family member or a close friend, people rarely take the trouble. Coulson, Tasha and Tony have done it for Clint. And now, a little boy battling cancer.

“Nope. Wanted to learn sign like his hero. Nate’s been receiving chemo here for a while now so when PR said they wanted to set up a hospital visit... I suggested this place. Short of a mission, I was pretty sure he’d get to meet you.”

“You didn’t need to wait for a hospital visit for me to meet him,” Clint says softly, gazing down at Nate who’s turned his head slightly to peek furtively over his shoulder at Clint. He clears his throat and adds in a voice more certain and confident, “We Hawkeyes have to stick together. Right buddy?”

His head still resting on Coulson’s shoulder, Nate beams at him but this time he doesn’t hide. Instead, he looks steadily and intently at his favourite Avenger, the adoration clear on his face.

No-one’s ever looked at Clint like that before, as though he could do no wrong. Maybe because everyone knows how badly things can go to shit when he’s involved. Still, it makes him feel… well, he’s not exactly sure how it makes him feel but there’s a warmth spreading through his chest and he kinda wants to laugh and cry at the same time.

Coulson ducks his head and peers up at Clint. “Jen, Nate’s mom, didn’t want you to feel pressured. Neither did I.”

“No pressure, boss. It would be my genuine pleasure,” Clint tells him honestly. He reaches out and gently bumps his large fist against Nate’s tiny one.

“Right. No big deal. Got it,” Coulson replies. Although he knows Clint means it, he's also aware Jen would have been uncomfortable with him asking Clint to visit Nate at their home. 

“Hey, you two. You finished hogging my son yet?”

Neither of them jumps, they’re trained and seasoned agents after all, but their twin sheepish expressions show she managed to catch them off their guard. They cover it with quick smiles.

“You turned up just in time. Think someone’s getting sleepy.” Coulson tells Jen, as Nate rubs his fist into his eye.

“M’not,” he mumbles into Coulson’s neck before yawning, his mouth opening wide like a flip-top trash can. He obviously is but Hawkeye is here and apparently, sleep can wait..

“Sure,” Jen says, drawing out the word. She reaches up to take him from Coulson but there’s a whingy squeak and the little boy grips tight to Coulson’s neck. Jen rolls her eyes at Coulson who grins. Clint gets the feeling this isn’t the first time the little boy's struggled to stay awake.

Coulson and Clint exchange looks and after a few seconds, Coulson nods apparently in agreement about something. It’s not that he knows exactly what Clint’s thinking, just that he has a plan.

“Tell you what, Hawkeye,” Clint says. “You get tucked up into bed an’ maybe we can read a story together.”

He flicks his gaze to Nate’s mom, suddenly worried that he’s perhaps overstepped. Maybe they have a routine he’s unaware of and he’s gone a futzed that up. He relaxes again as she smiles at him and says, “How about it, Nate? Would it be okay if Hawkeye read '[Harry the Dirty Dog](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/857448.Harry_the_Dirty_Dog)' with you?”

“‘Kay,” he agrees readily, all protests at not being sleepy cast aside.

Jen raises an eyebrow to Coulson who smirks. That was surprisingly easy for a change. Usually, her son will fight tooth and nail to stay awake when he’s tired like any four-year-old. However, it seems he can’t refuse Hawkeye reading his favourite book.

“Okay, sweetheart. C’mon and I’ll get you settled. Phil and Hawkeye can come see you, when we’re done, huh?”

“Pomis,” he asks with another huge yawn.

“Promise,” Coulson tells him.

Nate turns his face to Coulson’s and the senior agent rests his forehead against the little boy’s. Clint’s gooey heart pours from his chest as he watches. He clamps his mouth tightly shut before he can blurt out “I love you. Marry me.” or something equally as certifiable to his handler. Only disaster lies that way.

As Coulson’s about to hand Nate back to his mother, the little boy reaches one hand out to touch Clint’s cheek and leans in to press his forehead against Clint’s.

“Seeya soon, Hawkeye,” he says brightly even though he’s beginning to look tired now.

“Yeah, buddy. Seeya soon,” Clint whispers past the lump in his throat.

In a practised move, Jen takes charge of her son and smiles at Clint and Coulson. “Thank you both,” she mouths and turns away to carry Nate through to his bed.

“He’s an awesome little guy,” Clint says quietly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Coulson nods and folds his arms across his chest. “That he is,” he agrees. He turns to Clint and tells him, “You’ve made his Christmas. And Jen’s. Thank you.”

Clint looks down at his boots, “Nah. I didn’t do…”

Coulson cuts him off. “If you’re about to say “I didn’t do anything special”, don’t. I know you think that but… you don’t realise the way you affect people. You’re an extraordinary man, Clint Barton.”

Clint blushes and ducks his head. Before he can think too long about it, he takes a deep steadying breath and says, “Go out with me.”

Coulson’s eyes open wide in disbelief. “What?” he asks carefully, wondering if he heard correctly.

“Go out with me. After here. Coffee or beer or… or I guess... we don’t have to.” Clint trails off and turns his head away as Coulson stares at him as though he’s grown horns or a tail or maybe both.

“No,” Coulson replies, hurriedly changing it to, “I mean yes. I mean, no to “we don’t have to” and yes to “go out with me” But... why?”

It’s Clint’s turn to look incredulous. “Are you shittin’ me?”

He looks around guiltily at the kids in case they heard him. Fortunately, they’re too busy having fun with their real-life counterparts.

“I mean. You’re you. Why wouldn’t I want to go out with you? You know what? Rhetorical question. Coulson, you’re badass. You’re scarily competent. You’re so damned patient. You take care of us. You always have our backs. You hold us together - S.H.I.E.L.D., the Avengers… me. You’re the best man I’ve ever known. I’m not sure who I’d be or if I’d even be alive if you hadn’t taken a chance on me all those years ago.”

Clint flashes a quick grin. “Without you, I’d be inna jail. Phil Coulson.”

The tips of Coulson’s glow red and he smiles ducking his head shyly at the archer's paraphrasing of the children’s comments from earlier. As Clint was earlier, Coulson is left stunned by Clint's words which have obviously come from the heart.

Almost immediately, Clint turns serious again. “I was reminded tonight that good things happen at Christmas an’ that some things are worth takin’ a chance on. I can’t think of anythin’ I’d rather take a chance on than askin’ you out. So, Phil. Would you like to have coffee or a beer with me tonight?”

Still staring at his shoes, Phil isn’t sure how to respond. He had no idea of Clint’s feelings towards him but he knows he can’t leave Clint hanging. Slowly he raises his head looking like the stuffing’s been knocked out of him but when he speaks he sounds sure and confident. “Clint, I can’t think of anything I’d rather do tonight, or any night, than have a coffee... or beer with you.”

Clint lets out a long slow breath through pursed lips. “Oh thank fuck! I thought you were gonna spout frat regs or something at me”

There’s a tug at Phil’s pants’ leg. He looks down to see a little Captain America gazing up at him, her eyes are wide and shocked. Worried, he drops into a crouch to be at eye-level with her.

“Mr Agent? The Best ‘Venger said a bad word.”

Relieved it’s nothing more serious, Phil looks over his shoulder at The Best ‘Venger who’s biting his lip, trying not to laugh. The Real Captain America swears like a… well, like a trooper but Clint’s certainly not going to spoil a little kid’s image of him. Besides Phil would have his balls if he disillusioned a mini-Cap and he doesn’t want their date to end before it begins. Or lose his balls, particularly.

“Busted,” Phil says to Clint while doing his best to keep his own face straight. “You’re right, Captain. And what do you think I should do about that?”

She gives the question some thought.

“I get a timeout on the naughty step if I’ve done somefing bad. I have to fink about what I did,” she tells Phil, her expression very serious. She looks over his shoulder at Clint with a disappointed look which puts Steve’s to shame. Clint hangs his head at the little girl’s rebuke which also serves to cover his ear-to-ear grin.

“You know, Cap. I think that’s a very good idea. Thank you.” He holds out his hand to seal the bargain and is surprised when she wraps her arms around his neck instead. As he hugs her back she whispers “ _I have to go pee_ ” into his ear so loud that Clint can hear her.

Phil’s body goes rigid. That was unexpected. He pulls back to look at her and nods completely ignoring Clint’s stifled snort behind him.

“Okay. Pee. Right. You need a special agent for that. Why don’t we find you one then I’ll deal with Hawkeye. Sound good?”

The little Captain throws Clint another look that tells him he doesn’t quite measure up to her expectations as The Best Avenger. Wow! She may be dressed as Captain America but that look was all Black Widow.

“Kay, Mr Agent.”

Phil uncurls from his crouch and, taking the hand she offers him, walks her over to the gathering of parents and medical staff. He explains to her father who apologises profusely which Phil waves off with good humour. He also takes the opportunity to let the medical staff know where he and Clint are disappearing to next, should anyone be looking for them.

“Y’know, for a shady government agent, you’re pretty good with kids,” Clint tells him as they head for the door side by side.

Without breaking his stride, Phil raises an eyebrow and tilts his head to give him a measured look. “As a shady government agent, surprisingly... I have a lot of practice.”

Clint grins and doesn't bother replying. He’d already come to that conclusion himself anyway.

 

\- The end - 

 

* * *

 

 

While I'd definitely say read '[ **Harry the Dirty Dog**](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/857448.Harry_the_Dirty_Dog)' you gotta watch this if you love Betty White and puppies...

  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed. If you'd like to leave a comment or kudos they'd be most welcome. It's always lovely to hear from you :)


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